Ring Boxes and Terrified Looks
by TheSummerNightingale
Summary: Harry's jaw dropped open as he tried to comprehend the sly grin Mr. Weasley was giving his wife. "So you - you knew what I was going to ask?"/Mr. Weasley tried to suppress a smirk, but Harry could tell he was grinning anyway. "It's always in the ring box and terrified look."


**Written for QFLC Round 1 - Reserve for Tutshill Tornados - Beater 2**

_**Beater 1's favorite pairing: **__Hinny_

_**Prompts:**_

_10 - __(word) memory_

_15 - __(word) jitterbug_

* * *

Over the past eleven years, Harry had come to view the Burrow as his second home (the first being Hogwarts rather than Privet Drive). He had grown very comfortable with the creaking floorboards and cluttered living room, and had long since forgotten his fear of toppling out of Ron's precarious window.

Furthermore, the Weasleys were a family to him; never once had Mrs. Weasley _not_ welcomed him in with open arms and a platter piled high with food. Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George had always been at ease with Harry. Even Percy had, for the most part, always been willing to talk with Harry, if only to advise him on his future career options.

Harry had not had a reason to be nervous about going to the Burrow since that long faded memory of the twins and Ron breaking Harry out of his aunt's house when he was twelve, but he was twenty-three now and currently felt as if he was going to hurl at the thought of entering the Weasleys' house.

He expressed this thought to Hermione, whom he had dragged along for moral support. She was of little comfort: "The worst they could do is kick you out, and they won't because they already consider you as a son."

Lots of people called him a hero for battling Voldemort. But as Harry fingered the tiny box in the pocket of his best set of robes, he privately thought the real heroes of the world were the people who had the guts to ask for permission to marry someone's daughter.

He must have blabbed this out as well to Hermione, because she said matter-of-factly, "Harry, you're just being a jitterbug."

"A what?" He didn't listen to her answer because they'd pulled up in front of the Burrow. It would have been much easier to Apparate or Floo, but Harry's Muggle upbringing had imprinted into his mind that a drive up to the parents' house was the proper way to go about this kind of thing.

At any rate, he could use the car to put Mr. Weasley in a good mood.

"You're on your own now," said Hermione as he stopped the car. She patted his arm comfortingly. "Good luck."

"Yeah," Harry said heavily. She gave his shoulder a squeeze before Apparating away with a crack that the Weasleys could probably hear from inside.

When he decided that he had wasted enough time outside, Harry left the car and walked into the Weasleys' yard. Chickens came to peck at his shoes but he couldn't summon the energy to wave them away.

The door opened before he had even raised his fist to knock. "Harry!" beamed Mrs. Weasley as she gave him a bone-crushing hug. She peered over his shoulder at his car. "Why, you could have used the Floo instead, dear."

"Er, yes," said Harry. His palms were sweating.

"Well come on in, Arthur's in the kitchen." Harry followed her into the kitchen, where heavenly aromas rose from the pots on the stove. "Bill's coming over for dinner," explained Mrs. Weasley. "Arthur, Harry's here."

Mr. Weasley took of his glasses and shook Harry's hand. "Ah, Harry! Ginny's out in Diagon Alley right now-"

"Oh, yeah, I know," he said hurriedly. "I just wanted to - er -"

His inability to form coherent sentences was incredibly frustrating, but if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley noticed, they didn't mention it.

"Sit down, Harry, dear. Would you like some stew or snacks? We have plenty left over."

"Oh, no," said Harry, whose stomach churned at the thought of food. He took a deep breath. "Actually, Mrs. Weasley, could I take you away from your cooking for a little bit? I wanted to ask both of you something."

"Oh-" Mrs. Weasley placed the lid back on the pot. She seemed to be very determinedly trying to avoid eye contact with Mr. Weasley, who was folding his newspaper with a bright smile he was apparently trying to hide behind a cough. "Of course, Harry."

Being an Auror, Harry spotted the subtle whack Mrs. Weasley gave her husband's arm as she walked past. Highly uncertain about this display, Harry nevertheless waited until Mrs. Weasley sat down before speaking.

"Well, er, I've never done this before, so I'm not sure how to say this. It's just… I really like Ginny." He did not think he was imagining Mrs. Weasley's kick under the table towards Mr. Weasley, but both of the Weasleys' faces were devoid of much expression other than a thoughtful nod. Despite this, Harry persevered. "I - we've been dating for a few years now, and I just realized - well, not _just_ realized, but recently realized - that I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I want to ask for your perm-"

Mrs. Weasley let out a loud shriek and sniffled as she leapt to her feet with surprising agility and promptly threw her arms around Harry.

"Oh, Harry, of course!" she bawled into his shoulder. "We wouldn't want anybody other than you to ask us this, oh, Harry dear, we've always seen you as our son and now it'll actually be true-"

She drew away from him with a watery smile and stroked his hair away from his eyes. Mr. Weasley stepped forward and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Molly's right. Of course we give you our permission."

Relief flooded through his bones so poignantly that Harry almost collapsed. He hadn't realized how tense he had been, but his shoulders and back relaxed. A large smile spread across his face as Mrs. Weasley continued to hug him.

"Thank you," he said, wanting very much to dance around the room. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"No need to thank us," beamed Mrs. Weasley, cupping Harry's chin between her hands. "Although you honestly needn't have been so scared when you walked in."

"So you could tell, then?" Moments ago, Harry would have been mortified at the thought, but the smile on his face reminded him of his success.

"Well, yes," she said, her smile suddenly secretive. "You were walking so stiffly-"

"Not to mention the ring box in your pocket," nodded Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley shot him a quick glare.

Harry almost forgot to keep smiling as he quickly turned to Mr. Weasley. "You saw that?"

He looked guilty and said hesitantly, "Er, well," and looked at his wife, who sighed.

"Well, of course, dear," she admitted. "We have three married sons of our own. We know the looks of a ring box when we see one."

"Also the terrified looks of a groom-to-be," coughed Mr. Weasley.

Harry's jaw dropped open as he tried to comprehend the sly grin Mr. Weasley was giving his wife. "So you - you _knew_ what I was going to ask?"

Mr. Weasley tried to suppress a smirk, but Harry could tell he was grinning anyway. "It's always in the ring box and terrified look."

His wife smiled broadly. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it? Oh, Harry, you'll be our son-in-law very soon!" With that, she enveloped him in another crushing hug that he returned, his spirits high.

* * *

"It's nice up here, don't you think?" Ginny was lying on her back, staring up at the dying sun that streaked the sky with reds and oranges and yellows. Harry lay next to her and responded with a nod.

He knew had been rather quiet their entire date - even when they'd raced up the hill behind the Burrow on their broomsticks, he hadn't been as carefree as he normally was when flying. He could feel Ginny glance at him out of the corner of his eye and tried to still the hand that was rubbing his scar. He knew she knew it was a sure sign of his nerves acting up.

Ginny frowned and found his hand amidst the grass. He gave her fingers a tight squeeze, then let go.

Harry sat up and looked down at her as she propped herself up on her elbows. "What's going on?" she asked him. "You've been really quiet today, and frankly it's making me feel strange."

"Sorry," said Harry, smiling at her comment in spite of it all. "I just… It's just… Just close your eyes for a moment, alright?"

She gave him a quick appraisal before complying, and Harry was somehow reminded of how Mrs. Weasley had looked before he'd asked her for permission to do what he was about to do.

"We have a lot of good memories together, Ginny. I still remember when I first met you - didn't you keep putting your elbow in the butter dish or something? Anyway, I paid attention to you even before I started to really get to know you. And when I did later on, I realized how brilliant you are. I can't even describe what you are in words, but I can tell you that you're the only woman who will ever make me as happy as you do.

"I want that with you every day." His voice was stronger now. "I want to wake up next to you like this. I want to hold your hand every morning, every night, every day. I want you in my life, Gin. And so that's why I'm here, and that's why I'm asking you" - Ginny didn't need to be told, she must have somehow felt it; she opened her eyes and found Harry kneeling in front of her holding a ring box in his hands - "Will you marry me?"

Later, after they'd gotten past the kissing and putting-on-the-ring part, Ginny placed her head on Harry's shoulder and whispered teasingly, "I find it hilarious that you were still taller than me when you were kneeling and I was sitting." Their very slight difference in height was somewhat of an inside joke between them.

"Probably should have made you stand up, huh?" Harry laughed quietly.

"Probably." She turned to him, her grin mischievous, and Harry was once again reminded of her parents. "But I suppose I probably should have known to stand up."

He glanced questioningly at her, and as she laughed and leaned in to kiss him, she said covertly, "I have three married brothers. I've memorized their appearances by now, you know?" She shrugged. "Ring box. Terrified look."

Upon hearing this, Harry, instead of feeling embarrassed, promptly burst into laughter.


End file.
